Clair de Lune
by CTMfan-13
Summary: Sometimes things don't go the way you planned them...


The flat was quiet, save the soft music emanating from the wireless on the kitchen hatch. Shelagh had found a station playing nothing but instrumental music that afternoon and had put it on after the children had gone to sleep. The hope had been for her and Patrick to enjoy it together, swaying around the dimmed light of the sitting room to the calming music, but the telephone had other ideas.

Not even five minutes into their dance, the phone had rung and Patrick had rushed out the door. She hadn't registered anything but the words "breech", "hysterical" and "Nurse Gilbert". That had been over an hour ago, and Shelagh knew she probably wouldn't be dancing with her husband again that evening. But she'd kept the music on, just in case.

"Dadda?" 

The tiny voice of the 18 month old echoed in the flat as Shelagh finished her nightly routine of kitchen cleanup and preparations for the morning in the absence of her husband.

"Angela? What are you doing up, darling? Mummy put you to bed hours ago."

The little blonde walked further into the living room trailing her constant accessories: a teddy bear bought for her as a newborn by Timothy and her favorite blanket knitted lovingly by Sister Monica Joan, both showing signs of wear and tear after only a year and a half. Her eyes half-hooded, she peered at her mother through the kitchen hatch with an expression so innocent Shelagh couldn't bring herself to chastise her for being out of bed.

"Dadda home?"

"Not yet, darling. Why don't we go and lay back down in your room, hmm? Then, when you wake up in the morning Daddy will be here and we can all have breakfast together."

Shelagh walked towards her daughter bending to pick her up and take her back down the hallway, but was stopped as Angela sidestepped from her embrace.

"No. Wait for Dadda." Angela made her way to the couch, placed her teddy and blankie on the cushion, and began to climb up in a less than graceful manner for the toddler. Shelagh had to bite her lip to stifle a giggle as she watched her daughter sit primly on the sofa, hands clasped in her lap and feet sticking straight out in front of her.

"Daddy may be gone for quite a while, sweetheart."

"Wait." Angela responded, crossing her arms in annoyance. After a few moments, she looked up and patted the cushion next to her. "Mummy sit."

Shelagh sighed and crossed the room to sit next to her daughter on the sofa. Angela's thumb went into her mouth as Shelagh stroked her fingers through her daughter's blonde tresses and Angela curled into her side, reveling in her mother's attentions.

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in having a cuddle while we wait for Daddy, is there?"

Shelagh whispered as she kissed her daughter's temple and slipped off her house shoes, curling her legs underneath her on the couch. Angela, already half asleep, adjusted to the new position by wrapping her arm around her mother's waist and sprawling her legs out, beginning to snore almost instantly. Angela's actions made Shelagh wonder about the effects of nature versus nurture, because moments like this showed her husband's undeniable influence on their daughter. Adopted or not, Angela was their child, the perfect mix of them, there was no question about that.

Whether it was the soothing music, the dim light in the sitting room or the steady rhythm of her daughter's breathing against her side, Shelagh felt herself being lulled to sleep along with Angela.

The dial on his watch rolled to two am as Patrick Turner walked back into his home. There would certainly be no dancing with Shelagh now, he thought bitterly. Not that he should be complaining. Mrs. Black had delivered a healthy baby boy after a long and difficult labor that had seemed almost impossible. But oh, how he wanted to dance with his wife.

He opened and shut the door as quietly as he could. Taking off his coat and placing his bag near the door, he registered the lights in the sitting room were on and the wireless was still playing that instrumental station Shelagh had found.

Had she waited up for him? True, tomorrow was a Saturday which meant nothing but house calls and the possible emergency call out, but staying up this late was unheard of, especially for Shelagh.

As he reached the doorway, he felt his bad mood begin to melt away. There were his two girls, laying on the couch. Angela splayed across her mother while Shelagh curled around her protectively so that she wouldn't topple off in her sleep.

Angela was awake, barely. Her one thumb was in her mouth while her other hand was tangled in Shelagh's hair as she twirled the blonde strands into a knot. She glanced to the doorway as he moved in and tried her best to sit up quickly, pulling her mother's hair in the process.

"Dadda home!" She lifted her arms as he entered the room, crossing to her quickly so as not to wake his wife.

"Hello, my angel." He whispered, kissing her cheek. "What are you doing up so late? You ought to be in bed." He started to move towards the doorway to the bedrooms as Angela wrapped her arms around his neck tighter and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. "Nooooo. Dadda hold."

It was a good thing Shelagh was asleep. She would have told him off for giving in to their daughter so easily. But in all truth, to have one of their children prefer him over Shelagh was a rarity, and he was going to take full advantage of it.

"All right. Daddy hold." He smiled, rubbing her back and swaying in time with the music from the wireless. "Did you wait up for me, my angel?"

Angela, finally contented to be in her father's arms nodded against his shoulder.

"Mmhmm. Missedyou." she mumbled as Patrick continued swaying back and forth. As the violin music came to an end over the radio, Patrick stole a glance at the mirror over the mantle to see his daughter was fast asleep. Continuing to sway, he grabbed her teddy bear and blanket from the sofa and slowly walked down the hall to her bedroom, tucking her in amongst the zoo of stuffed animals she'd acquired in her short life.

Standing there for a moment, he watched as she snuggled into the pillow in a movement eerily like his wife when she was exhausted. Kissing her forehead, he made sure to leave the door open a crack as he exited the room.

Though he hadn't gotten to end his evening the way he'd hoped, he still got to dance with one of his girls. And that was enough, he thought to himself as he made his way back out to the sitting room to gather up his wife and put her to bed. Perhaps tomorrow they'd get their chance.


End file.
